


The Raid

by Random_Scribbling



Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Big Bad Bosses, Crack, Dancing, Night Clubs, Songfic, Spying, The Raid - Freeform, This was completely self indulgent, Undercover, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Scribbling/pseuds/Random_Scribbling
Summary: Based on the song by the Big Bad Bosses. Princess Peach has been going into the Koopa Kingdom in disguise. Supposedly it's to gather info on Bowser's latest plot, but really she just wants to get out of the castle. One night her evening is interrupted when the King Koopa himself stalks into the club she's visiting and things go a bit insane.





	The Raid

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...this is total crack. No excuses. I just really wanted to imagine Bowser getting in a dance off with Princess Peach and totally kicking butt. This was written in a caffeine haze at two in the morning, so beware of typos. I also am not a dancer in any shape or form, so let me know how to improve. In general, read at your own risk, have fun, and let me know what you think.

The first time Princess Peach had snuck out of her castle on a mission to infiltrate the Koopa Kingdom, she had to keep coming up with reasons why she had to do it.

Mario was terrible at stealth.

Bowser was a danger to herself and her kingdom.

It wasn’t fair to ask a toadstool to spy on someone who only kidnapped her.

This was her problem, and she would be the one to fix it.

She had slipped across the border and managed to find her way to the capital, fidgeting with her disguise the whole way. The castle, however many times she had been in it, never lost its intimidation factor, so she had taken one look at the late hour and scuttled into a bar a few streets down.

After all, she reasoned, Bowser’s men would probably come here for a drink and spill the information she wanted, right?

It had worked; she found the info she wanted and slipped out without trouble.

And then she came back the next week.

And the next.

Soon she was enough of a regular that the appearance of her crimson pixie-cut wig at the door was greeted with cheers of welcome. Yellow make-up and a carefully fitted beak mask gave her the distinctive Koopa nose while allowing her to breathe and talk, and Peach actually enjoyed wearing the pilfered red Koopa boots more than her own high heels. A pair of baggy black jeans and a leather jacket over a bright red shirt with a fake shell carefully sewn on was more than enough to allow her to blend in with the regular crowd. A few fake claws and no one had even given her a second glance.

~O~

Princess Peach laughs loudly and slams her drink down onto the bar, covering her mouth with one fake-clawed hand. Her disguise is good, but her teeth aren’t Koopa-sharp, and it wouldn’t do for the Princess to be caught inside a place like this. Which isn’t quite fair; The Other Castle is a lovely place. It’s got decent food, music with a heavy beat that she’s been sorely missing, and a huge dance floor filled with unselfconscious people moving to the beat. Of course, Toadsworth probably wouldn’t let her come to a place like this even if it weren’t deep in the heart of the Koopa Kingdom.

“Oh, a place like that is no place for a princess,” the toadstool would sniff disdainfully and the force her into another etiquette lesson for her trouble. But that’s not why she’s here in disguise. Of course not; she is absolutely here gathering information on Bowser’s next plot. Of course the fact that she’s never seen him in this club makes that a little hard, but she’s not going to quit. She’s definitely not here to dance and enjoy herself for a few hours before she’s forced back to her prison of formality and perfection.

Peach shudders at the thought and takes another sip of her drink.

It’s not like her birthday next week.

It’s not like her quiet requests for a smaller party will be ignored.

It’s not like she’s going to spend her special day trapped up on a pedestal like a trophy.

And it certainly isn’t that she wants one night of fun to hold her through the next week of stiffness and frozen smiles.

“Hey Blossom!” The call of her fake-name startles her out of her thoughts and she turns to Mike with a fake smile. The Koopa gives her a look and reaches over to punch her lightly in the arm.

“Chill out, toots, toss whatever’s bugging ya in the lava pit for the night,” he orders. Her smile becomes a bit more real and she chuckles.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in, finishing off her drink and standing. She stretches subtly, rolling her neck and shoulders as she eyes the dancefloor. It’s not crammed full tonight, but the beat is pumping and she feels the tingling in her limbs that only dancing will cure.

“You goin out there?” Mike raises a brow-ridge. He receives a toothy smile in return and can’t help but grin. “Alright, just let me warn the poor DJ,” he rolls his eyes and strides off for the booth. Peach reaches over to leave a few coins for her drink before the music drops into a lull.

_“Alright alright alright! Beauties and Gentle-beauties, we’ve got a treat tonight! Fire Blossom is in the HOUUUUSSSSSEEE!”_ The dancefloor cheers and Peach props her hands on her hips and gives the spotlight that finds her a challenging look. She stalks onto the floor, a path parting around her, until she’s in the center. The light dogs her every step. She stops, pops a hip, and spreads her arms wide.

“Where’s the music?” She demands at a shout, and the cheers come again as the volume rises and a fast beat thumps through the building. Peach is dancing now, the stomping, rocking dancing that Koopa are known for. It’s completely different from the intricate steps of toadstool dancing and just what she needs right now. She isn’t sure how long she dances, stomping her feet and swinging her arms and switching between Koopa partners and groups so fast that no one can claim her. Through the dance she can still feel the spotlight’s warmth on her head, but it’s so different.

Princess Peach, the delicate pink flower of the Toadstool Kingdom, idolized for her soothing manner and distant disposition, is long gone. Instead Fire Blossom is here, the spotlight following her because she has earned it. Her dancing, her drinking, the fast-formed kinships found on the dancefloor, everything is earned here, and she loves it. Peach is so deep into her dancing that it isn’t until the music cuts that she stops. She’s confused at first, paused at the edge of the dancefloor furthest from the door. There’s a ring of space around her, everyone distracted by what’s going on at the door, and when she sees why she gapes.

King Bowser is here.

He’s here, in this club.

He’s here and, from the absence of a squad of guard or flaming fireballs, he’s not here for her. Peach lets out a careful breath.

Actually, he doesn’t look like he’s here for much of a fight at all. The bulky front of his shell is missing, leaving the warlord clad in boots, leather pants, and a jacket not unlike her own. His red hair is no more brushed than usual, standing up between twin horns in a rumpled mohawk, but his mustache and beard are a bit neater than she normally sees. Apart from the purely decorative spikes jutting out the shoulders of the leather jacket he looks almost nothing like the monster she’s used to. This Bowser is standing at the door, towering head and shoulders over the Koopa as he observes the club over crossed arms. When the music stops and everyone turns to stare at him, the King bares wickedly sharp teeth in a grin.

“Well? Don’t let me stop you! Keep dancing, and someone get me a drink!” One of the waiters scurries over with a huge tankard, and Peach blinks. The staff doesn’t look startled, or even frightened by the King’s appearance. She glances around, spotting Mike nearby.

“I didn’t know the King came here,” she remarks. Her friend shrugs.

“Yeah, he comes in whenever he’s got a break. Kinda surprising you two have never met before,” Mike responds. He’s relaxed, something Peach never thought she’d see while Bowser was in the room, and she looks around again. While they were surprised at first, none of the Koopa look scared of their king. A few are even going over to greet him. Bowser’s smile catches her off guard, and finally allows Peach to relax. He doesn’t see her, this is normal, and it doesn’t look like the king is about to start spewing fireballs in one of his own night clubs. The music has started again, and Peach steps back onto the dancefloor.

Blossom is soon lost in the rhythm, moving with the beat and dancing with everyone else. She ignores the spotlight on her out of habit, oblivious as to how the other patrons of the club watch her move with something close to envy. Mike smirks. He’d taken the nervous girl under his wing when she first arrived, not even knowing how to dance, and look how she’s, well, blossomed. Not that he blames her for her nervousness; the length of her limbs and the dull teeth he’s seen a few times tell him she’s at least part human, and people aren’t always kind to hybrids.

Bowser watches the red-haired woman dance from his spot, pleasantly surprised. He’d never seen her before, but she’s a good dancer, hitting every beat and pulling off some of the more dangerous spinning moves with a grace rarely seen. Standing, the king is about to go for another drink when the spotlight moves to shine in his face and the music pauses again.

_“Beauties and Gentle-beauties, we have us a treat tonight! The King has graced us with his presence and, if we’re lucky, a dance! Let’s hear it for the King!”_ The Koopa break into raucous cheering and Bowser rolls his eyes even as a smirk pulls at his lips. For all that the song is a bit odd he’s happy to step onto the floor. The track starts and everyone is getting into position except for the confused dancer from before. Bowser walks over to her, noting how the woman straightens at his approach. This close he can see the tell-tale length to her limbs that hints at human blood.

“Never done this before?” He asks, and she shakes her head. “Good! Join me, then. Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Bowser grins, receiving an answering smile in return, and offers a hand to her. She hesitates, but eventually takes his hand in a careful grip. There’s something odd with her claws, too, but Bowser ignores it in favor of tugging the dancer to the center of the floor. Along the way he catches the woman’s name from whispers around him: Fire Blossom. It suits the woman striding confidently beside him, and she takes up a stance facing him when they’re in position. He can’t help but grin again. This chick is totally unafraid of him, and not hard on the eyes, either, and she’s meeting him smirk for smirk. The song starts for real, and Bowser laughs along with the track.

“Ready to break the scales!” Bowser shouts. “Got that fire! Bring it back real quick!” He lets out a laugh worthy of a Mario battle, stalking forward faux-threateningly at Blossom. The woman copies him, crouching slightly and stomping forward with her claws up and flexed. Bowser rocks back, weaving his shoulders with the beat.

_“Back with a fury, power in the air, found yourself in a dungeon lair, ain’t no way to be prepared, so shake that scary derriere!”_ The track orders, and Bowser is more than happy to comply, stomping and moving his hips. Blossom matches him move for move, the teeth-baring smile of before replaced with one of exhilaration.

_“Goin hard on the Mushroom tip! Goin large with my turtle grip! Spin around in your shell get flipped! Mess around and you will get squipped!”_ Bowser punctuates each phrase with a stomp before dropping down and spinning once on his shell, popping back up to keep dancing. Blossom goes one further, flipping into a complex move that involves a cartwheel-like push of her arms to launch back onto her feet and into a spin. Bowser lets out a laugh that nearly drowns out the music. It’s a challenge then!

_“Back it up, back it up right here, and get that tail in gear! I whoop that Buccaneer, someone better get a new career AH!”_ Bowser throws some footwork into the mix, dark black boots thundering around the floor before they fly up into the air, the Koopa King supporting himself on one massive hand in a curved handstand that puts him almost face to face with Blossom. For a split second the woman has a close-up view of sharp teeth bared in a grin before Bowser straightens his arm and lands back on his feet.

_“I’ll put you in a trance, my game is so advanced, this floor don’t stand a chance when I unleash this dance!”_ Bowser follows along with the music, Blossom with him.

_“Claws up, knees bent, tail straight, bill spent, eyes wide, shell on lock, that’s the way we Rock! Clowns rode, bridge burned, stance wide, glug turned, shots fired, plans made, cause that’s the way we do the raid!”_

“That’s the way the game is played,” Bowser leans forward and shouts the lyrics down at Blossom, who smirks and yells right back, “No one’s coming to your aid.”

“Never let the music fade,” responds Bowser, and the two together yell, “That’s the way we do the raid!”

_“I’m breathing fire!”_ Announces the track, and the king tips his head back to let a thin stream of flame flicker along the ceiling.

_“Ain’t gettin tired!”_ He looks back down at the woman. With the club lights flashing different colors on her face and the grin of exhilaration she’s gorgeous and alive.

“Just call me Sire!” Bowser orders along with the song, flashing a wink at the dancer. _“That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the raid!”_

Bowser’s laughing now, a rough, grating sound that’s barely audible over the music, and when he reaches out one scaled hand Peach takes it without question. The Koopa King twirls her into a sharp spin, sending her flying across the dance floor before pulling her back in and into position.

_“Ain’t gonna be denied, swing your arms from side to side,”_ they follow the music, barely a foot apart now, and when Bowser complies, _“One leg up, fist to the North!”_ Peach takes a chance. She braces one foot on Bowser’s raised one, hooks her arms over his flexed bicep, and, when the lyrics shout, _“Blow up like a rocket on the fourth!”_ Bowser does exactly what she expected him to: he jumps, moving his arm and leg in just such a way that she can launch into the air, spin, and ‘explode’ into a spread-eagle position before landing back on the dancefloor like a dropped bomb.

_“Now JUMP!”_

“Ain’t no hassle,” agrees Bowser, hopping forward and growling the lyrics into Blossom’s face.

“Like a shorty in another damn castle,” Peach bursts out laughing, and Bowser continues, “But since we’re here right now I can show you how!”

_“Fire balls, spike dudes, red hair, attitude, spread dread, pockets full, that’s the way we roll!”_ Bowser allows flames to flicker between his teeth without launching them, moves his shoulders in a rolling motion that emphasizes the decorative spikes, rakes a hand back through his sweat-damp hair, and smirks for ‘attitude’, leering down at Peach for spread dread and pockets full.

“That’s the way we roll!” He choruses with the music.

_“Back-track, pots filled, jaw slacked, sharp drill, twirled home options weighed, cause that’s the way we do the raid!”_ If the previous lines were about Bowser, the next are all about Peach. She takes a step back, forcibly reminded for a split second that she’s dancing with the Koopa King who kidnapped her time and time again. Her jaw wants to drop, memory flashing to the time Bowser had actually used a drill to break into Toadstool Castle, and then he holds out a hand for her and Peach is happy to be ‘twirled home’. As she comes to another split-second stop pressed up against Bowser’s side, Blossom weighs her options.

She can disengage, break off the dancing and go home and pretend this never happened. Or she can enjoy being the center of attention for something she actually did and have fun being with a skilled dance partner. Peach grins, baring her teeth, and keeps dancing.

_“Cause that’s the way we do the raid! That’s the way we do the raid! That’s the way we do the raid! That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the raid!”_

“That’s the way the game is played!” Bowser shouts, Blossom's voice rising to match his.

“No one’s coming to your aid!” She yells.

“I love being bad,” the king matches the track. “I ain’t even mad!”

“That’s the way we do the raid!” Blossom shouts.

Bowser stomps harder than normal and declares, “I’m crushin it flat!”

And pauses, one hand up and waiting. Peach watches with confusion as something small is thrown across the floor into the king’s waiting palm. Bowser passes the hand over his head, and when he looks down all Peach can see is the mighty King of the Koopa, her enemy and kidnapper, wearing a pair of fuzzy cat ears and singing, “While dressed as a cat?”

_“That’s the way we do the raid,”_ the music agrees, but Peach is stopped dead.

“What’chu think of that?” Bowser demands, and Peach bursts out laughing, barely able to recover in time to finish singing the last of the chorus.

_“That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the- That’s the way we do the raid!”_ As the music finally fades Blossom laughs and takes stock. Her disguise is firmly in place, she’s sweaty with exertion and giddy from dancing with such a great partner, and, somehow, pressed firmly to the side of the Koopa King as he leads her gently from the dancefloor over to the bar. A raised eyebrow at the bartender produces two tall glasses of soda, ice cold. Peach grabs hers eagerly, downing it in one go and gasping for breath. As her air returns, the AWOL princess giggles breathlessly.

“That,” she declares, “was amazing!”

“I’ll say,” Bowser agrees, taking his own drink a bit more slowly. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“Where did you learn that footwork?” Peach demands, hopping up to sit on the bar so that she’s closer to being eye level with the king. Bowser grins.

“Would you believe traditional dance classes?” He teases, and Peach gapes.

“No!”

“Yup; most of that was a few waltzes thrown together and done in place about ten times faster than anyone ever dances,” he smirks, pleased about the impressed look the dancer is sending him. She tosses her head, flipping short red hair out of the way so that she can see his face more clearly, searching for any lie.

“Huh,” Peach considers this. She runs over the way his feet had moved in her mind. He’s actually right; several of the patterns are familiar to her.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Bowser comments, and Peach is too tired to panic. She shrugs.

“Overbearing caretakers, paperwork, you can probably guess how it is,” she stretches, leaning back on her palms.

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Bowser grimaces and takes a bigger gulp of his soda. “I practically had to order Kamek not to send a squadron of guards with me. To go to the club!” He scoffs. “As if some Toadstool assassin is going to pop up in a dark corner.”

Peach considers. The plan had been brought up once or twice, but she had shot it down for being too risky to the assassin. Though of course they hadn’t used the word assassin; that was too close to evil for their tastes.

“Unlikely,” she finally responds, and Bowser grunts his agreement.

“I know that, and you know that, but try convincing Kamek. Though sometimes it would almost be worth dealing with a few Toadstool assassins to get out of the meetings.” Peach lets out a heartfelt groan.

“I know, right!” She bursts. “So many people acting so stupid and selfish and they won’t shut up long enough to get anything done!”

Bowser is nodding like a bobblehead.

“And stars forbid that the merchants get involved,” he comments. “It’s like all common sense goes out the window the moment money comes up!”

Peach offers her fellow ruler a toast in agreement, her glass mysteriously refilled with soda by a quick bartender. The conversation flows, from complaints about the stupidity of various officials to griping about overbearing caretakers and groaning over the incompetence of minions.

“What is it about castles that confuses minions?” Bowser demands, chin resting on the counter and hands buried in his hair. “The east wing is in the east, and the west wing is in the west, and when I say go to the second floor of the east wing they manage to find the basement of the south! How!” Peach nods solemnly and pats Bowser on the head.

“Once I tried sending them in the opposite direction of where I wanted them and it actually got them closer than usual,” she comments. Bowser hums thoughtfully.

“I need to try that, then,” he muses, sitting up and rolling his head on his neck. “Bartender, what time is it?” He questions. Peach looks up from their conversation for the first time in a while and realizes that the club has emptied around them, a few stray waiters left behind to clean up the mess.

“Nearly three, your highness,” the bartender replies, going back to cleaning glasses. Peach’s eyes widen.

“Three in the morning?!” She yelps. The princess scrambles down off the countertop, patting down her pockets.

“What’s wrong?” Bowser questions.

“I wasn’t supposed to come out tonight; if I want to get home before my caretaker wakes up I have to leave ten minutes ago,” she explains in a rush, pulling the key from her pocket and jogging for the door. Bowser is hot on her heels, watching as the ginger looks up and down the street and races for a motorcycle parked by the curb.

“You’re riding that?” Bowser questions.

“You bet,” Blossom responds absently, plucking a helmet from the handlebars and strapping it on her head.

“We should do this again,” Bowser decides.

“Yeah, maybe,” Peach turns on the bike, oblivious to Bowser’s stunned expression. She had said yes? Peach pauses when a huge green hand reaches down and wraps around her handlebars. She looks up at Bowser, whose face has gone oddly serious.

“Will you be here next week?” He asks, and Peach has the oddest feeling that she’s at a turning point. She considers everything: her job as princess, the constant kidnappings that she’s started to look forward to as breaks in her routine, the frustration of playing a part every day of her life, and the freedom of coming to the club and dancing with her mortal enemy.

She makes a decision.

Bowser watches in confusion as Blossom reaches up and wrenches the beak from her face, revealing the button nose and high cheekbones of Princess Peach outlined in a layer of yellow make-up. Her white teeth are bared in an honest smile that he’s never seen before.

“Definitely,” Peach answers, and, while Bowser is still reeling, she revs her bike and speeds off towards the border. Bowser stands in the street, jaw dropped and arm still extended in the direction she rode off in. The Princess, HIS Princess, had come here. Had snuck out to come here and dance. Had snuck out to dance and hadn’t run when he came. Had stayed, had danced with him, and then stayed to talk about frustrating council members and caretakers. Blossom, the charming woman that he spent an evening with, and Princess Peach, the woman he kidnaps just to have a decent conversation, are one and the same. Bowser fights to reconcile this in his head. As the two images unite and he fully puts together what happened, Bowser’s face breaks out into a huge grin. The King turns and makes for the castle; he’s got a week to brush up on his dancing skills, and he needs to step it up.

After all, he’s got a date with Princess Peach.


End file.
